


Dawning and Dusk

by rage_quitter



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alien Friends!, Fluff, The Dawning, it's just a lot of cute soft alien friends and teaching eliksni the true meaning of dawning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rage_quitter/pseuds/rage_quitter
Summary: It's the Dawning once again! For Guardians, that means it's time for snowball fights, dancing, and gift giving. But a few Guardians have their eye on a very unusual target for gifts this year, and Devrim can't avoid getting involved.





	Dawning and Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> happy dawning, guardians!  
> also why has no one written devrim and his actual husband yet hello???? more gay dads content please

The region known as the European Dead Zone was… strangely calm.

Talriks hadn’t been here for very long, only a few weeks. But in that time, he had only encountered a couple of Guardians, most of whom were just passing through. He considered himself lucky and avoided attacking them when he saw them. 

That was why he had been assigned here. He was patient. He knew how to observe, how to track patterns. He could, better than most, see when Guardian activity was strongest. 

But there was one constant.

One human. One human who wasn’t a Guardian, camped out in the building in the middle of the ruined settlement. 

Guardians visited him often, brought him supplies. Talriks heard him speaking through radios and comms, but he didn’t know the human language very well yet. The Guardians that brought supplies for the human were the only ones who stayed in the area long.

He didn’t think it would be worth harming the human. The human occasionally took shots toward the Eliksni, but it seemed more in warning than anything, sending shrieking Dregs ducking for cover and Vandals retreating. Maybe he was doing the same thing Talriks was doing. Observing.

Talriks was sure he had a benefit the human had.

It was cold.

He knew cold. He was a Devil once. He lived in the bitter cold for years. This place wasn’t as bad. 

Talriks blinked when he was startled from his thoughts. He looked up toward the clouded sky.

Something bumped his side, and he snapped his gaze back down at the wide-eyed Dreg staring up. “What is this?” asked Kyrhiss.

“Snow,” Talriks replied. He held out a hand to let it fall to his palm. “Like rain, but frozen.”

Kyrhiss’s uncertainty turned to wonder. Talriks tapped her gently on the shoulder. “It’s… pretty.”

“It is,” agreed Talriks.

It kept snowing. All through the day and the night. It was only beginning to let up in the morning, leaving a heavy blanket on the ground. Some of it was already disturbed by the last patrol, now returning, bundled and brushing snow from their armor.

“Anything?” he asked Keelas, the other Captain stationed here.

She shook her head. “Nothing of note,” she said. “Just the snow. The one in the building is keeping well hidden.”

“Humans do not deal with the cold as well,” Talriks said dryly. “We may have some luck.”

“Not with food here,” she grumbled. “And our next shipment may be delayed.”

“You can argue with them about it, then,” he told her. He barked at his crew, not unkindly.

She growled in annoyance. “Right. Thanks. Get going already. And don’t freeze to death out there, I’m not covering for you if you do.”

Talriks clicked at her and turned for the door. 

His crew stared with wide eyes and wonder at the landscape, transformed overnight. He blinked against the white glare a few times.

“Keep your eyes in your heads,” he said, startling them. They ducked their heads, but he laughed. “None of you have seen snow before this? Come on. We still have a job to do. You can look at it while we are patrolling.”

It was, indeed, very boring. It was charming for a little while, watching his crew admiring the snow and Bosik try to eat some of it, much to the entertainment of the others. But after an hour of nothing, he was already bored. 

He let his crew stay behind to poke at the icicles hanging from a door frame and wandered ahead a bit on his own. 

Talriks looked out over the cliff edge toward the river. It was half-frozen at the edges, flowing too quickly to freeze in the middle, with chunks of ice floating downstream. Even he could admit that this planet was beautiful. 

He heard a soft crunch and snapped his head around just in time for something to hit him in the face.

Talriks yelped and swatted at his face. It was cold!

There was laughter. He blinked his eyes against the snow to see a pair of Guardians looking at him.

One of them was reeling back with snow in its hand. 

He jumped back, but the snow hit him in the shoulder. He looked back at them, too confused to even raise his shrapnel launcher. 

One of the Guardians stooped low to scoop up snow in its gauntlets.

Another snowball came flying from behind them and hit the other in the back of the head. The Guardian yelped and whirled around with a shout and a laugh. It sprinted after a third Guardian now fleeing, cackling wildly and leaping for cover.

The remaining Guardian looked at Talriks, then at its snowball. A shout distracted it. It looked back at the other Guardians and yelled something. It glanced back at him and raised two fingers to its helmet before running after the other Guardians, yelling and waving the snowball.

Talriks felt a claw grip his cloak and reached a lower hand to the Dreg beside him. 

“What are they doing?” asked Meviks, one of the Vandals on his crew, creeping up alongside him. 

“Playing some sort of game?” he guessed. “Don’t attack them.”

“Looks… kind of fun,” Darrha, the other Vandal, said with a chitter. 

He clicked softly.

One of the Guardians pointed at them, and he stiffened, wary, pushing back his crew behind him a little more. 

Another Guardian said something, and the first one tossed a snowball in the air and caught it again while replying. The third one… where was it?

There was a crash and a yelp, and the third one came falling down from a tree between the other two Guardians, showering them in snow disturbed from the branches. Talriks heard a few of his crew trill with laughter at the sight. 

The third Guardian struggled to its feet, complaining, and the other two threw snowballs at it, earning another loud complaint. 

The broadest of the Guardians gestured again at Talriks and his crew. The one in the long robes lifted and dropped its shoulders. The cloaked one that had fallen from the tree laughed and scooped a snowball before leaping over the tall one, ignoring its warning shout, and bounded through the snow toward Talriks and his crew. 

It waved one hand as it approached, and slowed when his crew cowered behind him. He held out his lower hands and tightened his grip on his weapon.

It shook its head and held out its hand. It sounded like it was asking a question before it held out the snowball toward them. 

Talriks stared at it for a few seconds before it thrust its hand forward more insistently.

“Talriks,” hissed Meviks. “I think it’s giving you the snow?”

Slowly, he stepped forward. The Guardian didn’t move until he hesitantly reached out a lower hand. It exclaimed in excitement and pressed the snowball into his hand, curling his fingers around it. It stepped back and mimed a throwing motion and pointed at its Guardian friends. 

Talriks widened his eyes. “Oh, no. No, I am not throwing this at your friends!” He shook his head at it.

The Guardian scoffed and waved a hand. It pointed at its gun at its hip and then shook its head. 

“Is it… it’s not gonna hurt us?” Darrha asked, creeping forward.

“Careful,” Talriks warned. 

The Guardian waved to her. She clicked and cautiously mimicked the gesture. It laughed in delight and stooped down to make another snowball and offered it to Darrha. 

She glanced at Talriks for approval and he sighed, still holding the one he had been given. “Go ahead.”

She chirped and accepted it.

The Guardian waved its hand toward itself, as if urging the rest of Talriks’s crew forward. 

Kyrhiss crouched down beside Talriks and reached into the snow, though her eyes were on the Guardian.

The Guardian shifted to a clearer spot and made another snowball, much more slowly and exaggerated, letting Kyrhiss mimic it. It nodded and said something cheerfully when she patted a snowball into place in her hands. It offered the snowball to Bosik.

The other Guardians had approached during this, and the broad one said something. The cloaked one made a strange, mocking sound and threw another snowball at it, earning a few chitters from Talriks’s crew and a laugh from the robed one. 

Darrha suddenly yelped and jerked upright. Talriks tightened his grip on his weapon, but when he turned, Tiviksis was snickering and making another snowball.

Darrha growled and flung hers at him. 

Talriks sighed and shook his head. 

The Guardians watched, laughing and talking, as his crew starting flinging snowballs at each other. They sounded entertained, at least. His crew made use of the terrain, Tiviksis leaping to the top of an archway to drop one on Bosik and Kyrhiss yelling at Meviks to get down out of the tree, because it wasn’t fair, she couldn’t climb it one-handed.

Talriks crossed his lower arms and glanced again at the Guardians. 

A snowball hit him in the helmet. 

The Guardians stopped and stared.

Talriks heard his crew freeze.

He turned his head slowly. Darrha crouched low to the ground, her eyes wide, the only one not holding a snowball in any hand.

Talriks uncrossed his arms and she cowered lower.

“Talriks,” she said quickly, panicked. “I-- I’m sorry, I wasn’t, I--I wasn’t trying to hit you, I was trying to hit Meviks, in the tree, and I--I missed-”

Before anyone else could move, Talriks grinned behind his mask and threw his own snowball. “And I didn’t!”

Darrha blinked at him as the snow fell from her helmet. 

The others roared in laughter. 

“Talriks!” Darrha exclaimed. 

He held out his lower arms, laughing. “What? It’s only fair!”

She straightened, relief clear in her chitter. 

One of the Guardians said something, catching his attention again. It was the broad one, and whatever it said made the cloaked one groan and slouch over with another complaint. The broad one patted it sympathetically on the shoulder. 

The robed one looked to Talriks and said something in a bright tone. The cloaked one nodded, straightening up. It pointed toward the stone path that led away, to the outskirts of the settlement, saying something in a tone of annoyance and regret.

Talriks angled his head as the Guardians started to back up. The robed one bowed its head shallowly as the cloaked one waved its hand. 

“Oh, are they leaving?” Meviks asked. She raised a hand to return the wave. “Bye, nice Guardians!”

The broad one laughed and called something to them that the other two eagerly echoed before all three summoned their Sparrows and raced off over the snow.

“What was that about?” Bosik asked.

“Guardians never cease to amaze me,” Talriks said, shaking his head. “They can make anything into a game.”

“I’m glad they wanted to share their game instead of kill us,” Kyrhiss said, crouching on a pile of snow. “That was… really nice of them.”

He looked down at the light tug on his cloak. Darrha wasn’t looking him in the eye. “I really am sorry,” she said.

Talriks clicked and tapped her shoulder. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m not going to punish you for it, don’t worry.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

That was just the start of the strange Guardian behavior. 

The next several days he watched Guardians come and go, laughing and joking, much more cheerful than they had ever seemed to be. Many threw snowballs at each other. He watched them build shapes from the snow, made to look like lumpy human beings, complete with rocks for eyes and sticks for arms. 

At some point in the night, one of the Eliksni must have taken it upon themselves to improve it. Talriks watched the Guardians laugh in delight at the new eyes and arms added to the snow sculpture. Three more snow-Eliksni joined it that day. 

One Guardian brought long woven cloths, and he watched it wrap them around the “shoulders” of the snow-Eliksni with great care. Another Guardian put a cloak around the largest one. As a third later in the day was trying to mimic a helmet from the snow on the largest one, it happened to look up and see his eyes glittering in the shadows. It froze, staring at him.

Curious, he stepped out toward it, shrapnel launcher lax in his arms. The Guardian hesitantly waved to him. He mimicked the gesture and it seemed to brighten. He chittered softly. 

The Guardian pointed to its helmet and then at him, then at the snow-Eliksni, asking something. He approached cautiously, towering over the Guardian. “Are you trying to use me as a reference?” he asked. He held his launcher in one arm and tapped at his helmet before gesturing at the snow-Eliksni. 

The Guardian nodded eagerly. It eyed him for a moment before going back to its careful sculpting. He stood still as it continued to look at him for reference.

Finally, the Guardian stepped back with its hands on its hips. It looked at him and said something.

He snickered as he looked at the snow-Eliksni. The helmet addition was pretty accurate, for being made of snow. Talriks gave the Guardian a nod.

It laughed and bounced on its feet, saying something in excitement. 

“I have no idea what you’re saying, but it looks alright,” he said to the Guardian. “It’s not bad at all.”

The Guardian paused for a second, its head angling, before it brightened again. It asked a question.

He shrugged at it. “I don’t speak Guardian.”

The Guardian made a funny sound. He straightened in shock at the next thing that it said. “Thank?”

“What? You--what? Did you…”

It laughed and nodded. “Thank!” it exclaimed again, a poor rendition of Eliksni, but an attempt nonetheless.

“Is your Ghost helping you speak Eliksni?” he asked. “Just to thank me for standing still for a minute?”

After a pause, it nodded. “Friend?”

He clicked warily.

The Guardian lifted and dropped its shoulders. “Friend time. Happy dawn, Captain!”

He watched it wave at him before transmatting to its ship in a glimmer. 

“Happy dawn?” he repeated in confusion. 

Guardians were so strange.

It only got stranger. 

More snow fell. Not as much as last time, but enough to fill in the tracks and imprints. As soon as Guardians showed up, they fixed the snow-Eliksni that had been covered by the fresh snowfall and replaced an arm that had broken off one in the wind. They sang as they walked around, a happy tune, laughing with each other. They went to visit the human, and when they left, the glow from the windows was more colorful. 

When Talrhis went out for his patrol that night, one of the walls had been totally cleared of snow. On it were several folded pieces of cloth. He approached it cautiously and found a page. It had a picture on it, a drawing of a happy Vandal wearing the cloth like the snow-Eliksni, holding hands with a human wearing one as well. It was an admittedly well-done drawing, if exaggerated in cuteness. He picked up one of the cloths and let it tumble from his fingers. 

“What is it?” Mevik asked.

“I don’t know what they call it, but… I… I think they wanted to give these to us?” He showed her the drawing. “They left gifts?”

“Why?” Bosik asked. 

“Something strange is going on,” Talriks said. “They’re… so friendly. I haven’t heard a shot fired in days.”

“Is it the snow?” Mevik wondered.

“No. It can’t be. They were not this friendly in the Cosmodrome.”

“What if they’re having some kind of celebration?” Darrha suggested. “Maybe that’s why the human’s window is lit up. There are colorful lights strung up inside. Like they decorated.”

“A celebration where they are peaceful…” Talriks ran his fingers over the cloth. It was plush and soft. “And give gifts? I wonder why.”

“What should we do?” Mevik said.

“I… suppose it would be rude not to accept a gift?” Talriks looked at the cloths. “There’s quite a lot of them. Enough for us and for Keelas’s crew, at least.”

Darrha grabbed one off the wall and wrapped it around her neck. “It’s soft!” she exclaimed. “I like these! Here, Kyrhiss, hold still.”

Talriks’s crew cooed over the cloths for a little while. He sent Bosik back to Keelas with the rest and with the drawing to explain to her what was happening. 

They were very soft. Even nestled a little funny around his mantle, he could admit that it was nice. 

The next night, there was a box full of metal scraps. The drawing this time had a few Shanks, drawn almost too cute, with little strings of what were meant to be colorful lights draped over the Shanks. Kyrhiss found a few strings of the colorful lights in the box, too.

The third night it was a bigger, sturdier box. When they opened it, the sweet smell made Talriks a little hungry. The drawing was a few Eliksni--in their new cloths--eating things. 

“That smells really good,” Darrha purred, trying to peer into the box. “Can I see?”

“I’m a little wary about eating things until we know they’re safe,” Talriks warned, even as he pulled out one of the things. It was wrapped in plastic with a decorative bow. It was flat, shaped like an evergreen tree, and had colorful bits on it. There were dozens in the box, each wrapped with its own bow, of many shapes. “It’s some kind of treat?” he wondered.

“I promise I won’t eat it,” Mevik said. “I can take one back so it can get analyzed for ingredients?”

“Keelas should be able to get that machine working. Go ahead. Don’t eat it until you know it’s safe.” He handed her one of the treats.

When Mevik returned, she was rumbling softly. “Keelas said they are fine! Made of mostly plant-based things and some eggs and stuff! It’s totally organic! And then she ate it.”

Talriks chittered. “Of course she did. Well, sure, fine, I guess if it’s safe to eat them, then why not?”

The treats were probably the most wonderful thing Talriks had ever eaten in his long life.

 

Night four ground to a halt before he had even gone out to patrol.

There were shouts, excited and eager. He kept hidden, watching from a window.

The human was exiting the building, approaching a group of Guardians. 

As the human approached, Talriks saw his face brighten. He exclaimed something and broke into a run. Another ran forward to meet him halfway. 

He wasn’t a Guardian, either. 

Talriks watched the two humans throw themselves into an embrace, laughing and speaking with clear joy in their voices. The strange man pulled back first, reaching both hands to cup the other’s face, and pulled him close to press their mouths together. 

Talriks drew up in surprise. He had seen Guardians perform that gesture before. It seemed to be something romantic in nature. Was this new man the scout’s lover? Talriks didn’t know why he was so surprised. 

The scout pressed their foreheads together, the human version of a smile bright on his face. He looked past the other man’s shoulder and spoke to the Guardians. They replied with laughter and a nod from the scout’s lover. The scout shook his head and touched their mouths again. 

Talriks watched the two humans grip their hands together as the scout led them back to the central building. Some of the Guardians followed along, but a couple other ones stayed outside, talking and gesturing. 

One of them procured a page, and the others nodded. Talriks watched them move to the same wall where the other gifts had been left, and a box was transmatted. Two of the Guardians vaulted atop the wall to check the box’s contents. Seemingly satisfied, one of them took the page and tucked it neatly with the box before the two hopped back down.

One in a cloak, apparently trying to keep a watch, happened to glance toward the building Talriks and his crew were lurking in. Talriks withdrew from the window when the Guardian’s helmet stared at him and it drew up in surprise.

The other Guardians looked over as well when the cloaked one spoke to them and pointed. Talriks hissed silently. 

However, the Guardians still didn’t attack. Instead, they all started to wave, and a few called with cheerful voices. One gestured at the box, like it was presenting it with pride. Slowly, he crept cautiously back to the window. He felt Kyrhiss peer out beside him as well.

One of the Guardians said something to the others, and they nodded. Slowly, they backed off, and headed into the building after the others. 

“Well, now we know for sure they’re for us,” Darrha murmured. 

“Should we wait?” asked Bosik with uncertainty. 

“Perhaps a minute, yes,” Talriks said. “They’ll likely be watching. I still don’t understand what they’re doing…”

After a little waiting, a few of the Guardians came back out. They looked toward where Talriks and his crew were hiding, and waved, probably seeing their eyes glittering in the shadow. They spoke to each other before transmatting away.

Talriks waited just a little longer. Finally, he nodded. “I suppose we can’t sit here forever,” he said dryly. “Be careful, though.”

Moving with caution, they slipped from the building. Nothing seemed to change yet. Darrha started for the box, but Talriks paused her with a bark. “Wait,” he hissed. “We’ll do a quick perimeter first. Just to be safe.”

She pouted a little, but nodded. 

They swept the area, routine, with Talriks being more cautious than usual. He eyed the central building, but other than the flickering lamps and shadows of the people passing by the windows of the upper floor, there wasn’t any movement. 

After a few minutes, they circled back. Talriks sighed and waved a hand, lowering his shrapnel launcher. “Okay, let’s see what’s in it. I swear, you’re all like hatchlings.”

Tivikses clicked at him a little. “Aren’t you at least a little excited about all this? I know it’s still strange and suspicious, but it’s also not bad.”

Talriks shrugged. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I’m supposed to be in charge, though.”

“And your rank means you have to act stuffy?” Tivikses grumbled. 

Talriks narrowed his eyes. “Hey,” he warned with a growl. “Don’t make me throw you into that freezing river.”

The Dregs eyed him with a little fear for a moment before he shook his head. “I was kidding,” he said a little wryly. “I… suppose I’m not very good at that, am I?”

“Remaining fear of old Captains?” Bosik offered a little hesitantly. “Since you’re actually nice?”

Talriks barked a soft laugh. “We’ll work on both. My humor and your fears. Rules be damned, right?”

“It’s much harder to work together when we’re afraid you’ll cut our arms off at a moment’s notice,” Darrha murmured. 

“And I promised I wouldn’t,” Talriks assured. “Violence was never my preferred method of handling things. That’s why you’re all assigned to me. We’re observers, first and foremost.”

“Can we observe whatever the Guardians left for us?” Mevik asked.

Talriks nodded. 

She eagerly jumped onto the wall, and Bosik joined her. She cooed at the page and offered it to Talriks. He had to angle it a little under the lights from the central building, but chuckled at the image. A Dreg sitting on the shoulders of a Captain, spray painting on what was implied to be a wall. The Dusk symbol, a smiling human face, and a snowflake pattern. “Isn’t that charming,” he murmured.

Mevik pulled open the box and her eyes glittered eagerly. 

Darrha climbed up beside her, peered in, and cackled. “Paint! It’s so much paint! Look at it all!”

Talriks grinned. “That is actually going to be useful. There’s a lot here. Hold on, wait, they drew a few different things… do they think we mark things for fun?”

“We could,” Kyrhiss offered hesitantly. “When we finish marking territory and warning symbols… would it be bad to use leftover paint for art or at least just fun?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I never really thought about that. I don’t really see why not, though, if they think we should, right? And anyway, Keelas and I are the highest authority here, so… even if it’s not something they would want us to do, I would be fine with it, and I don’t think she’ll care much.”

“You want to draw something fun, don’t you?” Darrha asked, tossing a paint can in his direction.

He caught it easily. It was a vibrant green, judging by the cap. “Maybe a little,” he admitted easily with a chitter. 

“What if we drew something for the Guardians?” Mevik suggested. “To let them know we like their gifts?” 

Kyrhiss clicked. “Are we supposed to give them gifts, too? For this holiday of theirs?”

“What do Guardians like?” Darrha wondered.

“Dancing,” Bosik said with a chitter.

“Murder?” Tivikses said dryly.

“Wearing really bright colors?” Kyrhiss said.

Talriks glanced up from the can of paint in his hand toward the central building, hearing faintly the laughter of the gathered humans within. “I think I have an idea,” he said.

  
*******

Devrim was warmer than he’d felt in a while when he woke up.

Not the weather, of course. It was still cold enough for his breath to steam and the tips of his fingers to feel a little numb, even with the portable space heater to keep his loft livable. 

What had him grinning before he’d even opened his eyes were the arms around him. Arms he’d missed for months. Their visits were unpredictable and brief, but every moment with Marc was a blessing. 

Devrim knew he’d only be here another day or two before he’d have to return to the City, but with the Fallen so peaceful lately, it was safe enough for Marc to come visit him instead of Devrim having to take time from his post. 

He didn’t bother moving yet. He wanted to savor this. 

After a few lazy minutes, he heard Marc hum a little. Devrim couldn’t stop a smile as he was tugged closer and felt him make a half-asleep attempt at kissing the side of his head. “You’re awake already,” Marc mumbled accusingly.

Devrim chuckled and settled into his arms. “Yes,” he said. “I was enjoying your company. You seemed peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you. We already slept in way later than I usually do, so thanks for that, my dear.”

Marc pressed his cold nose into the back of Devrim’s neck. “How do you even get any sleep here? They can’t send you a mattress or something?”

“I’m fine,” Devrim said. “I’m usually the only one sleeping here, anyway, so it’s a bit cramped. Sorry about that.”

Marc hummed noncommittally. “Your spine, I suppose.”

“Do you want some tea, dear?”

“Mm, I’d love some, but only if you can make it without getting up.”

“You know, I’m good, but I don’t think I’ve developed Warlock powers just yet.” 

Marc snickered. “Alright, I suppose I can forgive you for that. This time!” He moved his arms, letting Devrim sit up.

Before he stood, though, Devrim leaned down to kiss him. His lips were cold, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and Marc could tell, laughing as he returned the millionth kiss they’d shared since he’d arrived last night. 

Devrim reluctantly stood, grimacing at the persistent ache in his hip--not age, he wouldn’t admit that, it was just the cold--and hunted down the pot he had to start using for hot water since his kettle finally kicked it after the Taken infection in the water had corroded it so badly. 

As he picked up an extra cup, though, he nearly dropped it.

Marc jolted upright as well at Devrim’s jump. “What’s the matter--” he started. 

Devrim held out a hand toward him and set down the cups. He moved to the window and picked up his sniper. 

He had to angle himself a little to see.

That same group of Fallen. He could recognize the Captain. This was the female Captain of this group that hid out in the buildings around the church. She seemed more cocky than the other one, the male, more eager to scavenge and trying to figure out what various things she found did, but still just as seemingly reluctant to start a fight as the absent male Captain. Devrim kept his finger off the trigger and keyed his comms until he could ping into their connection. 

“Be careful with that!” the leader was growling in warning. Devrim watched her reach down and catch the box that one of the Vandals was carrying. “Do you want me to carry it?”

“I’ve got it!” he replied with a determined sound, adjusting his grip on it with all her arms.

“Alright,” she said, eyeing her with two hands ready to grab it again.

“Are you sure it’s going to work?” one of the Dregs asked. 

“I built it,” the Captain said. “It works fine.”

“Wait, were we supposed to decorate the box like they did?” another Dreg asked.

“We don’t have a lot of options for decorations,” the Captain replied dryly. “Unless you can think of anything, I think it should be fine. Right?”

“Considering we have no idea what this weird holiday is,” the other Vandal said with a chitter. “I hope they like it, at least.”

The Captain made a sound like a hum of agreement. She holstered her shrapnel launcher and helped the Vandal lift the box onto the wall. “Okay, good. There’s that one. Talriks and his crew should have the other one finished by the time they come out for their patrol. Where’s that… the thing… oh, good, Hiskes, okay, yeah, put it there. It should be okay with the snow.”

“Now what?” asked one of the Dregs.

“Now we finish our patrol and hope the Guardians find it. If they’re leaving things for us here, then they’ll find it. Hopefully Talriks can get the other one done before then.”

Devrim watched them back up from the box and move off through the snow for the patrol they took each day. He waited a moment before stepping back from the window. They started talking about things again, things like rations and various events in their House that they were missing out on while here, so he muted the comms.

“Everything okay?” Marc asked, sitting upright on the cot, watching him with worry.

Devrim nodded and set his rifle down. “Those Fallen… it’s so strange.”

“You were telling me about them. The Guardians, too.”

Devrim turned on the little stove with the pot of water on it. “I suppose this type of strange is good, though. The Guardians have got the Fallen all sorts of befuddled, but it seems like they don’t mind. They’ve left a gift for the Guardians this time.”

Marc stood up, taking the wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders, to join Devrim at the tiny portable stovetop. “The Fallen left a gift for the Guardians?”

“So it would seem. Something they built, it sounded like. I suppose we’ll find out when the Guardians show up later.”

“I keep forgetting sometimes,” Marc murmured. “How they’re not… y’know, they’re not really that bad. Not all of them.”

“The Fallen?”

Marc nodded. “They’re still horror stories in the City, and all… but you get to see a whole other side of them out here.”

“This latest group have been the most pleasant neighbors I’ve had since getting moved out here,” Devrim said. “None of them have gotten killed yet, either, and they’ve been here since a week after Festival of the Lost. They’re more… observant than trying to do anything else. Too far from the Shard here, I think, to bother with going after Guardians.”

“If they’re not shooting at you, then I like them well enough,” Marc said with a grin. 

Devrim laughed. “You and me both, my dear.”

The water started to bubble. Devrim poured hot water into each cup and added a little honey to Marc’s, as he knew he liked it. Marc accepted his cup to steep, exchanging it for another kiss. “I’ll make breakfast?” he offered.

“That might just be the greatest Dawning gift you could give me,” Devrim said.

“Oh, it isn’t, I can promise that much,” Marc assured with a wink and a laugh. 

“Cheeky,” Devrim snickered. 

“Well, what can I say, I’ve missed you, my love,” Marc purred, leaning in for another kiss. Or two. Or three. Devrim didn’t really keep count. “Ah, alright, breakfast.”

Devrim chuckled and searched for his uniform in the meanwhile. His husband might have a few days off, but Devrim didn’t. At least it didn’t seem like he would have to do very much today.

And it turned out, he really didn’t.

He ate breakfast with his husband, talked about how life was in the City, called Suraya to thank her for setting this up. They fell into a routine, as they always had, even in this space unfamiliar to Marc. 

Halfway through the pleasantly lazy day, Devrim glanced toward his comm setup and tapped it to confirm approach of the fireteam coming in for “patrol.” He didn’t know if the Vangaurd knew about the clan that was so eagerly trying to befriend the Fallen, but was sure they wouldn’t really mind much. It was better than anyone dying, after all.

“Well, they sure sound excited,” Marc laughed as he glanced out the window to see the transmatting Guardians shouting out and bounding over the snow. 

“They usually do,” Devrim said. “I bet they spotted the gift from the Fallen.”

“Devrim!” one of their voices came crackling in over the comms. “You there?”

He chuckled and linked. “I am, yes, hello, Guardian.”

“You didn’t leave this, did you?”

“I did not, as a matter of fact. But I did happen to see who did.”

The Guardian gasped. “Was it the Fallen? They left us a Dawning present? I didn’t think they knew what we were doing!”

“Oh, they don’t,” he said. “I heard them while they were leaving it there. It’s for you Guardians, but they don’t understand why you’re leaving them gifts. They did guess it was for a holiday. Which makes me curious what sort of holidays they celebrate…”

“Maybe we could ask them,” said another Guardian. “Have we ever thought about doing that? Just asking them stuff?”

“They usually try to dismember anyone before they can,” said the third one dryly. 

“Well, not these ones,” said the Titan. “Hey, Devrim, can we bring it inside the church and open it? Oh, it’s heavy!”

Devrim shook his head. Marc was grinning at the Guardian’s banter. “Sure,” he agreed easily. “Though, another thing. I heard them say that the other crew is supposed to leave another one later this evening, too.”

“That’s so cool!” the Warlock exclaimed with a laugh. “And really nice of them! I’m glad.”

“Yeah, it’s really great,” the Hunter agreed. “It’s much better than the dismembering thing. I’m a fan of gifts and making giant alien friends--Light, this is heavy!”

“I got it!” the Titan said, a funny echo of the Vandal earlier. “Bringing it in, Devrim!”

Devrim reached a hand for Marc’s and led him down the ramps to meet the Guardians on the main floor of the church. “Oh, it’s bigger than it looked,” he said in surprise. 

The Titan carefully set it on the floor and held out his Ghost. “Wanna check it out, buddy?” he asked. “Make sure it’s not trapped?”

“I don’t think they would,” the Warlock said. “They seem really nice. I told you guys about that Captain who modeled his helmet for my snow-Fallen. It was the same one who threw snowballs with us the other day.”

“Well, he only threw the one,” the Hunter said.

The Warlock laughed. “Yeah, okay, but it was still funny. Once that Vandal stopped looking so absolutely terrified.”

“Well, now I feel bad,” the Hunter muttered. 

“But he seems nice, too. Like, even to them,” the Titan said.

Devrim nodded. “He is, actually. Talriks, that’s the name I’ve caught a couple times. I’m not sure about the rest of them yet. The other one is… Keelas? I think? She’s out right now with her crew, they left this earlier. They’re both surprisingly kind to their crews, especially for the Fallen. Up until now, I don’t think I’ve seen a Captain hesitate to dock someone for disobeying him. But neither of these two have even seemed to think about it.”

“Maybe they’re different, then,” the Hunter mused. “I know a couple others… so maybe…”

“Maybe we can be friends!” the Warlock suggested. 

Devrim chuckled. “It’s a bit hard when you don’t speak their language.”

“Well, I don’t, but you do!”

“Not well,” he said. “It’s not an easy language for us to speak. Exos, though, I think some of them could… they can mimic the sounds a little better. Not as limited, and all that.”

“But you can still try. And then we can have some Eliksni allies, maybe!”

“Allies might be pushing it,” the Titan cautioned. “But maybe we can just… coexist here with them.”

“If they’re already picking up on gift-giving, then we might be on the way to it,” Devrim said with a chuckle. “What’s in there, by the way?”

“It’s something with arc energy, but it’s not explosive. Or, not designed to be, at least,” the Titan’s Ghost said. “I’m not sure. It seems safe, but… Devrim, Marc, you should step back, just to be safe.”

They did.

The Guardians gathered around it and opened the box.

“I still don’t know what it is!” the Titan said cheerfully. “It looks cool, though.”

He pulled it out of the box with a little effort. It was clearly Fallen in design, some lumpy metal object with buttons and dials and a data screen and other odd things. It was aggressively painted with spatters of rainbow, but it was charming in its garish colors.

“It’s a… really big paperweight,” the Warlock guessed.

“For your really big papers,” muttered the Hunter. 

Marc laughed and stepped closer. Devrim followed him a little nervously. “You’re all ridiculous. Look, I know what it is, or what it looks like it’s used for.” He crouched and started fiddling with the knobs. “I don’t know which buttons do what, but it looks dumbed down for us silly humans, so… if we try… this… and then…”

They all jumped back as it made a sound. Marc pushed another button and the sound evened out, and then stopped. He frowned and tapped the screen, and then one of the dials.

The Guardians laughed and whooped in absolute delight as the machine started to play music.

“They got you a bloody speaker system,” Devrim laughed. “Complete with soundtracks.”

The Warlock’s Ghost scanned the machine this time. “It’s got a lot of music,” it said in surprise. “A lot of early Golden Age music?”

“It’s the favorite of like, every sentient species in the solar system,” the Hunter said. “The Fallen love rock and roll.”

“I can play anything we want,” the Ghost said. “Wow. It’s intuitive. And… oh!”

The machine lit up and started glowing with different colors. 

The Hunter cackled. “That’s so cool! Oh my Light, these Fallen are the absolute best, this is incredible!”

Devrim laughed and shook his head. “They know how much Guardians like dancing. I think every living thing in the system knows that much.”

“It’s fun,” the Warlock pouted.

“I never said it wasn’t,” Devrim replied easily. “Chin up, Guardian, it’s charming that our superhero friends are so eager to have a little fun and dance about! And clearly, the Fallen think so too, if they’ve given you this.”

The Titan sounded like he was grinning. “Can we transmat this to the ship? We’ll bring it to the Tower and show it off and then stick it in the clan headquarters!”

“You say headquarters, but it’s just my basement,” the Hunter said flatly. “You know that, right?”

“Hush, you’re the only one of us with an actual house,” said the Titan.

Devrim chuckled. “Sounds like you’ll make good use of this, then, won’t you?”

“Oh, definitely! That’s still so cool. They actually gave us a gift back!”

“The power of friendship, or something, eh?” Devrim said.

“Getting sappy, now, dear?” Marc teased.

“You haven’t seen sappy yet, love,” Devrim promised.

“Aww,” the Warlock giggled.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. The Guardians took their Fallen-made speaker system back to the Tower. Devrim didn’t see the Fallen again, but he was also paying more attention to his husband than much else. He didn’t count their kisses--each one was a treasure of its own. He was grateful for the alone time with Marc, even so far from home and too cold to do much that they wanted to do. Time with him was enough. 

And he didn’t feel as worried about him now. Since these Fallen were so unusually passive, he wasn’t afraid of Marc getting hurt. Not as afraid as he might’ve otherwise been, at least. 

The sun began to sink. Devrim sat outside with Marc to watch it turn the sky a dozen different colors. He pretended to watch it. Really, he was watching Marc, and already missing him again. 

Marc squeezed his hand. “You alright?”

“Mm,” Devrim hummed noncommittally. “As ever, I suppose.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Already miss you.”

Marc gave him a sad little smile. “Why? I’m right here.”

“I know. But you won’t be in a few days.”

“Sure. But I’m here now, dear. We’ve both got plenty of time left together. Maybe it’s limited for a while, but I’m sure you can come home soon. You should be able to take more vacations, right? They’ve got all these Guardians who can do this for you. We’re both getting a little old.”

“Ah, I don’t want to say that much,” Devrim said. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Devrim wasn’t old yet, but… maybe too old for much more action. The Red War had taken a lot out of him as it was… and then with the Reef in chaos and the Prison spewing former inmates… without the Hunter’s Vanguard… 

The stress of the past year was weighing on him.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Marc said softly. “Devrim, my love.”

Devrim sighed and shook his head. He leaned into Marc’s shoulder. “I know,” he grumbled. “I need to stop.”

“You won’t though. We both know you can’t. You worry so much.”

“I’m not the only one, though.”

Marc chuckled. “Alright, we’re not talking about me, now, are we?”

“Well, that is my favorite topic,” Devrim teased.

Marc laughed now and leaned in to kiss him again. 

As he pulled away, Devrim saw movement over his shoulder and tensed. Marc noticed immediately and froze, hand moving to the pistol at his belt. 

The Fallen stood in the doorway staring.

The Captain, Talriks, stood in the front of the others, holding a box a bit smaller than the other one in his arms. He had one outstretched to keep the rest of his crew back. None of them had weapons at the ready, but peered around their Captain.

“Don’t move too quickly,” Devrim murmured.

Marc swallowed. He searched Devrim’s face and nodded. Devrim squeezed his hand.

Slowly, Marc turned around to look at the Fallen. 

“Talriks,” one of the Dregs hissed quietly. It was barely audible, but they were near enough that Devrim could hear. “What are they doing?”

“Quiet,” Talriks rumbled back. “Not attacking, is the most important thing.”

Devrim softened a little bit. “Marc. Let me see your other hand?”

Marc frowned, unable to bring his eyes off the Fallen. “Why?”

“You’re frightening them a bit so near your weapon. It’s alright. I promise.”

Marc glanced toward him and nodded. He brought his hand away from his pistol.

The Fallen didn’t quite relax. Talriks seemed uncertain.

“What do we do?” a Vandal asked. 

“Just give it to him!” urged the other one. “They’re friendly!”

“I-- yes, they’ve been passive so far,” Talriks said, keeping his voice hushed, probably not realizing Devrim could not only hear, but understand him. “But…”

Devrim leaned forward a little bit to look around Marc at them. He grinned wryly and waved a hand before tapping his chest. “Velask,” he called.

They started in surprise. 

Marc almost laughed.

“Velask,” Talriks responded warily. 

“Apology. Speaking… difficult,” Devrim managed to say in Eliksni. Marc looked toward him, almost admiring. Devrim nudged him.

“You know our language,” Talriks said in amazement.

Devrim nodded, then shrugged. “Know, yes. Speak… not well.”

“Oh. I… hm. Yes, I guess that does make sense. This is… weird. I didn’t think I’d… actually speak to you.”

Devrim chuckled. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think you could understand us. We don’t know human-speak. So we also couldn’t ask… what this was about?” Talriks held up the box.

“Holiday,” Devrim explained. He didn’t know how to translate it, so he just said, “Dawning,” in English. “Time gifts and peace-friends?”

Talriks blinked.

“Dah--ning?” repeated one of the Vandals. “No, Dawww… Dawn-ing?”

Devrim grinned and nodded.

She chittered eagerly. 

“All those Guardians left us things,” Talriks said in confusion. “Why?”

Devrim shrugged. “Why not?”

“I… aren't we… supposed to fight?”

“No,” Devrim said. “You not.”

Talriks could hopefully make sense of Devrim's attempt at specifying him specifically. The royal 'you’ in Eliksni was different. 

He seemed to. Talriks shifted, claws tapping the box in his hands. “Okay… yes, okay, you aren’t wrong,” he said. “It isn’t my primary goal here.”

“To… observe? Yes?” Devrim asked. 

Talriks nodded with a few clicks of affirmation. “And I suspect you, as well? Since you haven’t done more than fire warning shots?”

Devrim chuckled. “Yes,” he said. To Marc, he translated the conversation quickly. “It’s what I thought. He’s not here to fight, just to observe. A scout, basically.”

“Like you?” Marc asked.

“Yep.”

Talriks glanced between the two of them. He said a word that Devrim didn’t know. Devrim frowned in confusion, and Talriks clicked his mandibles. “He is your… close other person?” he said. 

Devrim couldn’t stop the returning smile. “Yes,” he said, squeezing Marc’s hand. “Repeat other word?”

Talriks chittered and said it again, slower. Devrim grinned as he mimicked it.

“What’s that mean?” Marc asked.

“I think it’s a word like ‘significant other’ or something like it,” Devrim said. “He was asking if you were mine.”

“Huh. I didn’t think they had… partners like that. I never really thought about baby Fallen at all.” Marc looked thoughtful. “I bet baby Fallen are actually really cute.”

“You like any baby anything,” Devrim teased. 

“I’ve got a big heart.”

“You do indeed, dear.” He glanced back up toward Talriks watching them and chuckled.

Talriks’ shoulders seemed to relax a little more watching their conversation. “I didn’t know how affectionate humans were,” he said, a little softly. “Even if I don’t know your tongue…”

Devrim was still smiling. “Something common?” he asked. 

“So it would seem.” Talriks finally stepped forward. “I… we have this? We might not understand your holiday, but figured we should try to return the kindness.”

“It’s better to make friends,” added one of the Vandals with a cheerful chirping, nearly bouncing alongside her Captain. “And try to learn your holidays!”

Devrim brightened. “Guardians would like that,” he assured. “They like your gift earlier.”

Talriks chittered in delight. “Keelas will be pleased to hear that! Oh, um. Keelas is the other Captain… if you’ve seen her?”

Devrim nodded.

“And I am Talriks.”

“Devrim,” he said. He gestured to his husband. “And Marc.”

Marc waved. “Hello. Uh… wait, what was that word you said earlier, love? How do I say hello?”

“Velask,” Devrim said.

“Velask?” Marc said. 

Talriks chirped and nodded. Marc beamed.

“C’mon, Talriks,” one of the Dregs urged, tugging on his cloak.

Talriks swatted lazily at the Dreg, making him chitter. “Oh, calm down, Bosik, alright. Alright, come on, get off my cloak, you’re worse than hatchlings, all of you!”

Devrim laughed. 

Talriks growled softly, playfully rather than in warning. “Stars above, alright! This is for you.”

“For… oh. Me?” Devrim sat up straighter in surprise. It was the personal ‘you.’

Talriks nodded. “The other one was for the Guardians. But you didn’t seem like you would be very interested in something like that, so… if we’re all going to live here together, we should try to get along well.”

“It’s for us,” Devrim told Marc. “Rather than the Guardians.”

“That’s… really thoughtful. Huh. You’ve got nice neighbors, turns out.”

“Can I give it to him?” one of the Vandals asked eagerly. “Please?”

Talriks rolled his eyes. “Sure, Mevik.”

She chittered and took the box from him. She scurried close, eyes glittering above her rebreather. “I’m not sure what the customary phrase is for this holiday, but here you go!” she chirped, offering the gift.

Devrim accepted it. “Thank you. Very thoughtful of you all.”

Mevik blinked her eyes with an Eliksni smile and bounced a little on her claws. Devrim could see the scarves the Titans had knitted bundled around her neck, and on the other Eliksni, as well. 

“Should open now?” he asked, hovering his fingers over it. 

Mevik nodded. The others approached too, looking excited. Even Talriks looked hopeful.

Devrim glanced to Marc. “Want to open it together, dear?” 

“Sure,” Marc agreed easily. 

The two of them, under the eager eyes of the Fallen, opened their gift.

Devrim grinned wide as he pulled out what looked like a coat with a hood, fur lining the inside. It looked like the same material that made up Talriks’ cloak and mantle, but rather than being that faded violet, it was an olive green, like his own uniform. “You… made this?” he asked.

Marc exclaimed softly as he took out a matching one. “Oh, it’s really soft,” he said, running his hand through the fur. 

Talriks nodded. “I know humans get very cold, and it is only the start of the cold season. It isn’t as cold here as the Cosmodrome was, but… it should help.”

Devrim shrugged it on. It was a little loose. They must have used one of the Dregs to model it on and made it a little bigger. It was very comfortable, and not stiflingly warm like fur tended to be. It wasn’t any sort of fur from an animal Devrim was familiar with. 

“Do you like it?” Mevik asked.

He nodded. “It’s… really, really nice, yes. I really like it. Thank you.”

She trilled in delight.

“They made one for me, too… can you tell them thank you, love?” Marc said. “They must have seen me show up last night.”

Devrim relayed his sentiment, to the joy of the Fallen. 

Talriks seemed a little bashful. “There’s… a few other things, as well.”

Devrim raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked in the box. His eyes widened as he pulled out a wire rifle, clearly modified and painted over in olive and gray, like camouflage. 

“Because we noticed you like to snipe,” the other Vandal said. “Like me! And that doesn’t use those little metal bits that your other gun uses. It runs on arc energy, and it shouldn’t run out for a very long time.”

He rested it against his shoulder, peered down the scope. It felt pretty decent. Odd, because of its design for an alien race, but they had clearly tried to change it a bit so it was usable for a human. Devrim grinned in satisfaction. “I like it,” he said. “Different from what I’m used to, but different is good. Set up targets for practice sometime, maybe?”

The Vandal looked eager. “We could have a contest! See who has better aim!”

His smile grew more playful. “We could, yes.”

Talriks chuckled at the excitement on her face. 

Marc nudged Devrim. “You’re gonna like this one, dear,” he said, and pulled out a vintage tea kettle.

Devrim gasped softly. “Where did you--” he started in English, taking it in careful fingers. It was old, but in stunning condition. “How?” he asked in Eliksni, stunned.

Talriks chittered softly. “There’s a market for all sorts of materials and objects of interest. We saw you had thrown out your other one after that Taken infestation ruined it, and it took a bit to figure out what it was. I think that was found in some ruins in the… North American Empire?” The English rolled strange from his mandibles. “And restored to its best form. Like new.”

“Incredible,” Devrim murmured in English. “Marc, it’s from the Americas.”

“It’s not just a new one, look, the bottom,” Marc said, tapping it. “That’s the original maker’s mark on it. That’s amazing!”

Devrim turned his bright smile to the Fallen. “Thank you,” he said, putting every ounce of earnesty into it. “It’s perfect.”

The Vandal sat on the wall across from them, still beaming with excitement, a tiny purr in her chest. “Talriks thought of that one!” she said proudly. “He’s very good at giving gifts.”

Talriks growled softly, almost dismissively. Devrim chuckled. “Even for strange person,” he said. “Really. Thank you.”

Talriks softened a little. “I… I am glad you like it. It’s a bit weird, finding a gift for a human, but… I hope it will be useful.”

“Feel bad I didn’t get you gifts,” Devrim said a bit dryly. “Guardians thought of other ones.”

“Can you teach us things instead?” Mevik asked suddenly. “Rather than anything material. If we can learn human-speak, maybe? If we can talk easier, then… maybe we can be friends. With you? And the Guardians?”

Devrim brightened. “Can do that, sure. May take time, though.”

“That’s fine!” chirped one of the Dregs. “Right, Talriks?”

“If you would be willing to teach us… I think we’d all like to learn?” Talriks said, a bit hesitant.

Devrim nodded. “Yes, of course. Would be happy to.” He grinned at Marc. “Do you want to help teach some Eliksni to speak English, dear?”

Marc looked excited. “The folks back in the City won’t believe it! Absolutely, I do.”

It wasn’t the Dawning Devrim expected to have, but not a bad one at all.

  
*******

A few days later, Marc left.

Talriks was, admittedly, sad to see him go. He’d grown fond of the two humans already, in the few nights of sitting with them learning their language, learning about humanity, talking about his own culture. They weren’t as different as he’d thought. 

Devrim was clearly very sad to see Marc leave, as well. Marc promised to return, after embracing Devrim for a very long time. 

Talriks and his crew watched the Guardians take him back to the City.

Later that night, Talriks couldn’t sleep. It was between patrol shifts, when he should be resting, but nightmares of his past were echoing in his thoughts again. 

He bundled into his cloak and slipped out into the snow to clear his head.

He paused.

There was music. Singing. 

He saw a small light and blinked at it.

Devrim? He was sitting outside, bundled well in the coat Talriks had given him, in front of a small fire. He had some kind of musical instrument in his arms, his sniper leaning against the wall upon which he was sitting. He was singing softly, interrupting himself, and starting again.

Talriks watched him curiously.

Devrim stilled his fingers and looked up. “Talriks?” he asked.

Talriks waved hesitantly and approached. “Hello,” he greeted. “Cold?”

Devrim shrugged. “Could be worse,” he replied. “What are you doing up?”

“Not sleep,” Talriks rumbled softly. He didn’t know the words in the human language, and hoped Devrim knew what he meant in Eliksni. “Nightmares. Par for the course of war.”

Devrim frowned and nodded. “Sorry to hear. I understand.”

Talriks angled his head. “What are you doing, though? I’m not sure what your instrument is, but it sounds… quite nice.”

Devrim tapped the instrument. “Guitar,” he said. “One of the Guardians left it for me. A gift from another friend of mine. I’m hoping to learn to play so when I see Marc again…”

Talriks nodded, smiling a little as he spoke Eliksni. “You are practicing music to play for him? That’s very sweet.”

“Wrote it myself for him,” answered Devim, tapping a data pad littered with lines and symbols.

Talriks clicked in thought. “You have many skills.”

Devrim chuckled. “I just like to try new things. It makes one more open minded.”

Talriks nodded. “I understand. Agree, too. Learn new things is good.”

“Now I know that the Eliksni like music. You have your own instruments, then?”

“Yes,” Talriks said. “I not know, but Darrha know some. Ask her sometime, perhaps she play.”

“I just might,” Devrim said. “She’s an exciteable thing, isn’t she?”

“They all are,” Talriks scoffed. “Think, soldiers, all have killed, but… act like… hatchlings.” He paused and shook his head. “They deserve the chance, though, I think. After all we’ve been through. I’m the first Captain they’ve all had who hasn’t threatened them.”

Devrim frowned. “Why?” he asked. “I mean… why you don’t threaten them, like other Captains?”

“Fear keeps them in line, but… it only goes so far. When a Dreg loses everything, loses fear, they gain resentment and hatred. I’ve seen enough Dregs swarm their Captains in suicidal frenzies. It is easier, anyway, to be nice, to support them, to encourage teamwork as a unit.” He brushed his lower hands to his elbows, arms crossed loosely. “I have been a Dreg to a Captain who ruled with fear, and one who led with support. Under the latter, I saw a new way to lead, and quickly rose my own rank.”

Devrim winced in sympathy. “Good to hear that there are supportive Captains, like you. Hope for the Eliksni, right?”

“Perhaps,” Talriks murmured. “I want to have hope…”

“At least for a few of you. If a few aren’t so drawn to violence, then you’re not doomed or anything. Right?”

Talriks shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“Ah, that’s too depressing to talk about. Do you want to sit for a while?”

Talriks clicked and brushed the snow off the other wall to sit across from Devrim. The little fire was pleasantly warm. “You’re lonely,” Talriks realized softly. “You miss him?”

Devrim nodded. “I’ll see him soon, I know, but…”

“It’s hard,” Talriks murmured, watching the flames. 

Devrim looked at him for a few moments. “Do you…”

Talriks tapped his claws against his leg. “No. Not anymore. He… was Taken. Early on.”

Devrim’s eyes widened and his expression was clearly one of horror. He whispered something in horror that Talriks didn’t know.

Talriks shook his head. “Guardians saved him… ended his suffering. I saw them do it and thanked them for it. The only time I talked to Guardians without them trying to kill me… I think they could tell… how upset I was. But… I know he’s not hurting anymore, not enslaved anymore. I watched their Light free him, and I know they killed the King, so… I’m alright now.”

“That’s awful,” Devrim murmured. “I can’t… I’m sorry.”

“If the Guardians can stop that from happening to anyone else… I would gladly fight at their side,” he admitted softly. “It was a pain unlike anything else. Time has healed the edges of it, and there are other wounds to be focused on now.”

“What… was his name? If you don’t mind my asking?”

Talriks was quiet a few moments, staring at the fire. “Vekraas,” he said quietly. “His name was Vekraas.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Devrim said. He sounded gentle and earnest.

Talriks nearly felt a rumble in his chest. “You’re quite easy to talk to, I must admit. How strange… but… that’s alright.”

“Better to make friends than enemies.”

Talriks smiled at him. “Yes. It is indeed.”

“And it is a season of friends.”

“A very strange celebration, but an enjoyable one nonetheless.”

Devrim chuckled. “The Guardians certainly love it. They take any reason for celebrating.”

“I’ve seen them dance in the strangest places. That’s why Keelas made that thing for them.”

Devrim shook his head fondly. “I don’t know what it is. When you can’t die, you go a bit mad, perhaps? But still. They’re overall very kind, and they sacrifice a lot to keep people safe.”

“I wish the eldest of the Eliksni went mad in a way that made them do silly dances,” Talriks grumbled. “Instead of greedy and murderous…”

“Ah, perhaps it is not age,” Devrim offered.

Talriks clicked and shrugged. “Fair. Yes. I suppose I shouldn’t speak of that, though. I will just become bitter.”

Devrim scoffed. “No, I know. When leaders are… I don’t know the polite words to use.”

“Humans leaders are that way as well?”

“Some,” he grumbled.

“Ah, complexities of societies,” Talriks said dryly. “I guess being nearly cut off out here isn’t all bad.”

“No, it isn’t,” Devrim agreed. “Especially with neighbors as polite as you. I’ll have to thank those Guardians for starting this all off.”

Talriks chittered. “My crew likes you quite a bit, too,” he said. “I’m quite glad I was assigned here. And getting to know about human culture. And about you, as well. I’d say you’re the nicest human I’ve talked to, but you and Marc are also the only ones I’ve talked to, so…”

Devrim laughed. “I’ll take it as a compliment anyway. You’re good company, Talriks. I’ve had a few interesting Dawnings, but I think this one takes the cake!”

Talriks wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded like a good thing. “For the first one I’ve had, it seems a fine celebration,” he agreed with a soft rumble. 

“Hopefully you’ll have plenty more with us,” Devrim said. 

“I think I’d like that,” Talriks said. 

Devrim looked at him in the quiet lapse. He spoke after a moment. “Should I start playing again? I could use a judge.”

Talriks grinned. “I’d be happy to listen, my friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> come stop by my tumblr, @lesbianeliksni


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